


swallowed in sound as it echoes through me

by ayodelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayodelle/pseuds/ayodelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Tina had a birthday party and Blaine’s been acting weird ever since. Rated R, for a mention or two of penises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	swallowed in sound as it echoes through me

It all starts on a Saturday morning, the morning after Tina’s birthday party. Kurt wakes up later than usual, groaning, and reaches out to the right side of the bed, looking for Blaine’s warm body to huddle into. He finds the bed empty, the sheets hastily thrown down. He groans again as he sits up, and looks around the room for a sign of Blaine. The open bedroom door is the only hint he finds, so he heads into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head.

Much like the bedroom, it’s empty. Usually when Blaine wakes up early, he spends his time making breakfast or tidying up. The cupboards are closed, though, the coffee machine untouched, and yesterday’s dishes are still in the sink, which is suspicious enough on its own. Kurt would almost think that Blaine went out, but his keys are still in the bowl in the livingroom, and all eight pairs of his spring shoes are in the rack by the door.

Kurt’s just about to grab his phone when he hears a noise coming from the bathroom, the shower turning on. He smiles at that and shakes his head. _Stupid_.

In the time he’s done making pancakes, which, he’s quick when it comes to cooking, but it’s still no five-minute deal, the shower’s still running. He tries not to think too much about it; Blaine’s very thorough when it comes to hygiene. Besides, he doesn’t know what Blaine had to go through in the time that he took a half-drunk, half-sick Rachel home and left him in Tina and Santana’s company. Considering that once Santana managed to get fifteen shots into him in the span of thirty minutes, Blaine may very well be dealing with a massive hangover.

Keeping that in mind, he’s careful not to be too loud as he knocks on the bathroom door, a mug of coffee in one hand. “Good morning, sweetie, are you alright?” he asks with palpable concern.

The shower turns off and then there’s a dreadful noise of knocked-over products mixed with a yelp. Kurt freezes at that. He reaches for the door handle, worry getting the best of him, only to find the door locked. Blaine clears his throat on the other side of it, and Kurt can hear him gulp before he starts talking, his voice unnaturally high: “Kurt! Good morning! I’ll -- be out in a second, okay?”

The second turns out to be another fifteen minutes; Kurt’s just about to knock on the door again when it opens, a fully-dressed, neatly-gelled, wide-smiled Blaine stepping out into the room.

“Hi, Kurt!” he says merrily, leaning in to kiss the corner of Kurt’s mouth. For a second, Kurt could swear that he smells rubbing alcohol, but then Blaine’s strolling past him and the smell dissipates. He walks into the kitchen, grabbing the cup of coffee that’s waiting for him on the table, and gulps it down quickly, not listening to Kurt’s instant cry of: “Wait, it went cold already!”

“Oh, it was delicious either way.” Blaine smiles, stuffs the empty cup into the sink, somewhere between the cheese grinder and the casserole bowl, and heads to the main door. He starts tugging on the first pair of shoes he can find, which, coincidentally, happens to be a pair of mustard loafers that Kurt knows are his least favorite. It takes him three tries to get the shoes on, as he keeps tugging his cardigan down over his thighs, leaning down, and then straightening his body when it starts riding up. When he’s finally done he grabs his keys out of the bowl and strokes Kurt’s shoulder briefly before opening the door.

“I’m sorry, honey, I have to run,” he says, dodging Kurt’s questioning gaze. “I promised Tina to help them out with the leaking water tap,” he explains, playing with the keys absentmindedly. “I’ll be home by five.”

Then the door slams shut and Kurt’s left standing there, dumbstruck, as he recalls the time Blaine’s tried to fix their shower and ended up flooding the entire bathroom.

...  
  
Three days later, Kurt’s managed to convince himself that Blaine’s strangeness was just alcohol-induced and Blaine’s doing a good enough job of making that assumption convincing. Until he isn’t.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Kurt asks, cornering Blaine by their apartment door and withholding the umbrella that he’s reaching for. “You know, dinner, movie, a _dessert_ ,” he says with a suggestive smirk. He crowds into Blaine’s personal space, leaning onto the door frame and reaching a hand around Blaine’s neck to bring him closer. He tilts his head down, stares at Blaine’s lips and -- they’re surprisingly red, almost as if he’s been biting them. And Blaine’s very particular about not biting his lips unless he’s under a great emotional pressure (or watching an awards show).

Before Kurt can say anything, though, Blaine pecks him on the cheek, grabs the yellow polka-dotted umbrella, and runs out the door, throwing a hasty, “Can’t, sorry! I have that group study session tonight.”

Kurt watches him leap down the stairs, taking three steps at a time. He crosses his arms and frowns. He knows for a fact that Blaine’s usual study group just had a massive fight over plagiarism and its role in modern-day swing music, and they’re not going to be meeting for a while. Plus, he’s horny and Blaine’s been steadfastly deflecting his advances for the last three days. He tries not to panic, he really does, but it’s getting increasingly hard not to.

...

Two days pass and things seem normal again, minus the lack of intimacy. However, when Kurt comes home from his drama class, there’s frantic movement in the bedroom and he catches Blaine sitting on their bed, wearing only a towel.

“Hi, Kurt!” he sing-songs, beaming at him.

“Hello, hun, you about to shower?” Kurt asks, taking down his scarf. “You go ahead and I’ll hop in in a minute.”

Blaine stands up, though, and opens his underwear drawer, taking out a pair of boxer briefs. “Actually, I just got out. But I can make you coffee while you’re in,” he says, kissing Kurt’s temple as he passes by, disappearing in the bathroom with the briefs, sweats and a t-shirt.

Kurt makes a mental note to check out the shower, because for someone who’s supposedly just got out of it, Blaine’s skin and hair look alarmingly dry.

...

On the next Saturday, Kurt wakes up with a vague memory of a dream he had that night. It featured Blaine sneaking out into the bathroom in the middle of the night, to the musical accompaniment of Roxy Music. That part seemed almost real. Then the dream took a turn for the impossible, though, and the shower actually turned out to be the wardrobe from Narnia, and when Kurt ran into it to save Blaine, they were both transported to Oz.

Definitely not the weirdest dream he’s ever had.

...

When Kurt gets home from school the next day, he’s greeted by the smell of cookies. He doesn’t notice at first, though, busy listing through their mail, and confused beyond his mind.

“Blaine, I ran into Tina downstairs and she hugged me and told me, three times, that you love me. Wanna explain what that was about?” He finally sets the mail down, looking up, and startles. Their apartment’s dim, the curtains drawn, and their kitchen table is in the center of the living room, two wine glasses on top.

As soon as he closes the door, Blaine’s there to greet him, wearing a green apron and his best shirt. His smile’s wide as he kisses Kurt before taking his coat from him and hanging it on a hook. Then he grabs his hand and tugs him towards the table, pulls out the stool for him and magically fishes out a match from somewhere, lighting up a strawberry-scented tea candle.

“Are we celebrating something?” Kurt asks when he finally gets back the voice that’s left him at the sight of the room.

Blaine shakes his head, grinning bashfully. He uncorks a bottle of red wine, pouring it into Kurt’s glass. “Not really, I just wanted to apologize,” he says, his smile faltering. “I know I’ve been acting weird lately and I wanted to make it up to you.” He puts the bottle down and strips down the apron, holding up a finger as he says,” Me and the food will be right back.”

The dinner’s a pleasant affair, Blaine’s cooking skills in a surprisingly good form, and Kurt has a great time, finally letting go of his concerns a bit. There’s flirting and there’s laughing and there’s wine and Blaine says that, “I promise I’ll try to handle the stress from school better. I don’t want it to get between us,” and Kurt’s convinced that it’s all going very well and that he’s finally going to get laid tonight.

They clean up together and cuddle on the couch, watching old reruns of the Bachelorette, and keep stealing kisses by the bathroom mirror, their skin-care routine taking twice as long as usual. It’s _really_ all going very well and there’s no reason not to, so Kurt starts stripping when they’re done with it, looking at Blaine from under his eyelashes.

“Care to join me for a shower today?” he says, tugging down his jeans. He sees Blaine’s eyes follow his every movement, he sees him swallow and bite his lip and then -- shake his head?

“Sorry, Kurt, I think I’ll skip tonight. I feel really tired,” Blaine leans in to kiss him, slow and soft, his teeth nipping at Kurt’s bottom lip. He’s reluctant to pull away, and Blaine seems to be too, but in the end he’s the one who breaks the kiss and gives Kurt an apologetic smile.

Once Blaine’s out of the bathroom, Kurt deflates, leaning onto the shower stall. Well, again, his hand is gonna have to do.

....

In the morning, he wakes up to find Blaine plastered across his body, palming him though his pyjama pants. His cock’s already half hard and Blaine’s sucking wet kisses into his neck, careful not to miss a spot. When he realizes Kurt’s awake, he doesn’t move his head, just smiles into his skin and hums a greeting, slowly dragging his lips to Kurt’s collarbone.

He blows Kurt that morning, and later while he’s making them lunch. They go out with Mercedes and Santana that night, and Blaine proceeds to give Kurt a handjob in one of the bathroom stalls. Back in their apartment he sits Kurt down on their kitchen table and gets down on his knees, immediately undoing his fly.

Each time Kurt tries to touch Blaine and return the favor, his words are brushed off and Blaine shushes him with a handful of kisses.

...

Blaine keeps up the game for another two days, giving Kurt blowjobs every chance he gets. It’s the first thing that he does when they wake up, and the last thing before they go to sleep He’s eager and enthusiastic and when Kurt comes down from his last orgasm, lying on the couch while Letters to Juliet is on in the background, he thinks everything’s back to normal.

One day later, his blissful state comes to an end.

He’s finishing up a new sketch for Isabelle when his pen stops writing, so he gets up to take one from the arsenal they keep in the living room. He’s almost there when he hears Blaine’s hushed voice. He’s sitting on the sofa, talking to somebody on the phone. It wouldn’t be suspicious but --

“Yes, would that be possible?” Blaine asks, excitement obvious even in his barely audible tone. “Wait, a month? I can’t wait a month!” He springs up from the sofa, bringing one hand to his face and rubbing his forehead anxiously.

“Dr. Robertson, I’ve told you, I have a fiancé and this is kind of a big deal--” his eyes trail up, then, and he spots Kurt by the door. His hand falls to his side and his face transforms into an unnatural grimace. “Oh, yeah, Mike, we should definitely go out for a brunch this weekend, I was just about to ask the same thing.

“What do you think, Kurt? Are you free on Sunday?” he covers the receiver with his hand and calls out to Kurt, feigning excitement.

Kurt just nods, grabs a pen from the holder and disappears into the bedroom.

...

The tables get turned the following day.

Kurt doesn’t want to sit around and not think about Blaine’s shenanigans anymore, so he decides to call Mike and hope for an explanation.

He picks up at the third ring, sounding surprised. “Hi, Kurt! What can I do for you?”

Kurt goes right to the point, not bothering with pleasantries. “Have you talked to Blaine recently? I’m pretty sure he’s hiding something and I’m afraid it might not be anything pleasant.”

“Huh,” Mike says, taking a pause to think. “I haven’t, but he’s been spending a lot of time with Tina this week, so she may know what’s up. Should I get her for you?”

“Yes, thank you. I wouldn’t nose around like this if I didn’t think it might be serious. I’ve heard him talking on the phone yesterday and Blaine --”

“Hey, Kurt --” just then, Blaine comes into the bedroom, his own phone in hand.

“-- is definitely going to be flattered, Rachel,” Kurt blurts out, subsequently hanging up.

“-- Rachel’s calling to tell you about some NYADA emergency and she can’t reach you on your phone,” Blaine finishes and Kurt swallows, disgruntled. So much for being sneaky and taking matters into his own hands.

Blaine hands him the cell and goes back to his homework, giving Kurt a weird look before he turns around. Kurt scoffs. Blaine’s definitely not the one who should be giving those looks to anyone, least of all Kurt.

…

A night out with his girls is not of a much help, either. Mercedes excuses herself early and Rachel can’t make it, so he only explains the situation to Tina and, god, Santana.

Tina doesn’t say anything, but her face’s contorted into a painful grimace, which Kurt thinks speaks of her empathetic soul. She plays with the straw in her drink, listening to Kurt’s words without looking up.

Santana, on the other hand, is eager to offer her two cents.

“Well, I don’t want to get you all worked up, but I think I heard Cuddle Muffin say something about ass implants,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

Kurt almost chokes on his drink, sputtering the Mai Tai over the table. “That doesn’t make any sense! Blaine knows I find his butt perfectly satisfactory! In fact, I’m --” he pauses when he sees Santana’s smirk, her eyes sparkling in delight.

“You just wanted to hear me say that,” he realizes, glowering at her.

“Yes, and now I can sleep soundly,” she says, nodding. ”Or, you know, not.”

After a minute or two of staring into his empty glass, Kurt speaks up again. “What I can’t make any sense of, though, is the cruise.”

Both girls stare him at that, Santana intrigued and Tina -- well, perplexed.

“Blaine left a tab open on the web browser. It was a website of one of those companies that organize ship cruises and he was looking up the prices,” he explains, shaking his head.

“Kurt, Blaine _really_ loves you,” Tina mutters, dull,  going back to playing with the straw. Kurt gives her a puzzled look that she doesn’t acknowledge.

“He’s probably planning something for your anniversary --”

“-- which is in seven months.”

“Point still stands. Last year you spent the whole April giving each other gifts every day, don’t act like it’d be weird for him to do that,” Santana says, sounding progressively more bored the longer she speaks.

Kurt just -- he just pouts.

...

The last straw comes the next day, when Kurt’s curled up on the sofa with one of his textbooks.  
  
Blaine just came home from work and he’s in the kitchen, fidgeting with a water bottle and frowning at the floor. Kurt keeps glancing at him every other minute, trying to make sense of the mess that are his thoughts, failing miserably.

After a while, Blaine puts down the bottle and joins him in the living room, sitting down on the other end of the sofa. Without the bottle to play with, he starts biting his lip, again, and Kurt straightens up, knowing that his can’t be good.

“Honey, I was thinking,” Blaine starts, still not meeting Kurt’s eyes. “You know how Tisch’s putting on that new musical by one of their alumni?” At Kurt’s nod, he continues,” Well, there’s this character that I’ve been thinking of trying out for. I think I’d actually have a nice chance of getting the role, most of my classmates are trying out for the male lead.”

Kurt scrunches up his face in confusion. He thought Blaine was trying out for the male lead.

“It’d be a really great opportunity for me and I think I should really get to know the character, learn why he is the way he is and just, get familiar with being in his skin, you know?” at that, Blaine finally looks up, his eyes unreadable. “The thing is, he’s kind of -- well -- a monk. To really grasp the character, I think I should try --” Kurt takes a deep breath, knowing what’s coming, “going celibate for a while.”

He doesn’t know how to react to Blaine’s words. Laughter seems too reckless and breaking down in tears too dramatic. He stands up and heads for the door instead, muttering, “I need some air,” under his breath.

“Wait, Kurt, it’d be three weeks at most, we could negotiate something!” Blaine calls after him. “Maybe I could still give you blowjobs? I don’t think that’d be a -- ” but Kurt doesn’t want to hear anything else, closing the door and running down the stairs.

…

“I really don’t think Blaine’s cheating on you, Kurt,” Rachel says, opening the door on their favorite coffee shop.

“Oh, no, I know that!” Kurt says, holding the door open for her as she slips in. The familiar smell of coffee immediately does its magic, calming his nerves a little.

“Then why are you so upset?” she asks, bewildered.

“I mean, the thought has crossed my mind briefly, but I know he’s not cheating on me. It’s just that I heard that phone call, Rachel, and he was definitely talking to some kind of a doctor. What if he’s sick? And why is he not telling me? Does he not trust me enough to tell me what’s wrong?” Kurt wonders out loud, scowling. “And god, Rachel, what if it’s _that_ problem? What if he’s impotent? We would find a way to work around it, I’m sure, but what if?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious, Kurt,” says Rachel, growing increasingly worried on Kurt’s behalf. “I’ve talked to one of my friends from Tisch -- whom I definitely use for spying purposes only, you don’t have to worry about your best friend status being revoked -- and they’re having a really busy semester. It’s probably just that and his excitement over the good weather, you know how he gets...”

Kurt nods. He does feel a little better after talking the whole thing through with Rachel. She’s made some better and some worse points, but he at least made up his mind about what he needs to do. And that is -- he needs to talk to Blaine.

First, they’re going to get coffee, though, because in his worrying state he hadn’t had a nice cup of coffee in two days. He vaguely wonders if it might be his new record.

They’re about to make their orders when there’s a loud noise of a shifting chair and a thunk. “I didn’t -- I don’t, am not! Why would you even think of that, honey? I mean, that’s incredulous -- you were there the entire time!” It’s a woman’s voice and it’s a familiar voice and yeah, it’s definitely Tina’s voice.

Both Kurt’s and Rachel’s heads whip around to stare at the scene taking place in a corner of the coffee shop. Mike’s sitting in one of the chairs and Tina’s standing, looking at him with wide eyes. Kurt realizes she’s close to crying.  “I’m sorry but I -- I-- you know what? Go to hell, Michael Chang! You’re ridiculous, I refuse to even be in the same room with you!” her whole demeanor changes in a second. She grabs her bag and storms out of the shop, leaving a devastated Mike behind.

They forgo their orders and hurry to get to him. His face is so blank it’s upsetting and his jaw keeps clenching and his eyes are teary, too. Rachel’s quick to ask what happened.

“Nothing, guys. I -- don’t know. She’s been acting really weird lately and I’ve asked her about it and then she stormed out,” he says, voice soft. “At first I thought she was just upset that I couldn’t be at her birthday party, but that was almost two weeks ago.”

Mike’s eyes widen, suddenly. “I think she might -- I think she’s thinking of leaving me. What if she found some boy at her job? Or --” he pauses to look at them, “what if she found a girl and realized she’s no longer into me? You remember that one time she got drunk and came to ask me for a permission to make out with Santana? God, what if it’s Santana?We’ve been together for five years and...”

Kurt tunes out the rest of Mike’s ramblings (and damn, you know it’s bad when Mike starts rambling) and his whole body freezes. He brings up a hand to cover his gasp, eyes widening at the realization. Those words, and the scene, and Tina’s face, and the date - something clicks in Kurt’s mind and suddenly it all fits.

“I really don’t think that’s it, Mike.”

...

He gets home as soon as possible, needing to talk to Blaine more than ever.

The lights are off, it’s eerily quiet, and for a moment he’s afraid that there’s no one in their apartment. Then a mop of hair appears over the back of the sofa. Kurt turns the lights on and sure enough, there’s Blaine, his hair messy, body wrapped in a blanket, and eyes red. He stands up when he spots Kurt, running towards him and leaving the blanket in a heap on the floor.

“Kurt, I need to tell you something,” he says, voice quiet, but serious. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I was too embarrassed --”

Kurt, to Blaine’s obvious surprise, takes one of his hands and leads him to the sofa, sitting down so that they’re facing each other. His expression is unreadable as he stares at Blaine’s face, trying to think up a way of addressing what’s on his mind. He doesn’t know if he wants to yell at Blaine or fondle him, looking into his earnest teary eyes. In the end, he says, with as much control as he can muster, “Blaine, what the hell did you and Tina do?”

Blaine’s mouth thins out and he burrows his head into his hands, groaning. “It’s so stupid, Kurt. You won’t believe it.” He takes a breath and straightens out, tentatively reaching out to take Kurt’s hand. He lets him, wanting nothing more than to know what’s been messing with Blaine’s head for the last two weeks.

“So, you remember Tina’s birthday party and how Rachel almost threw up on the karaoke machine and you went to take her home?” Kurt nods. “Well, Santana ordered us a dozen of some mixed drinks and then she went home with a girl from the bar and me and Tina had to finish up the rest of them. Obviously, they were stronger than we’ve thought,” Blaine looks to the side, his cheeks reddening. “Then Tina had an idea. She’s been planning to do it for a while but never got around to it and she asked me to come with her, and next thing I know, we’re sitting in a tattoo parlor.”

Kurt closes his eyes, breathes. That’s exactly what he should’ve expected. It makes perfect sense.

“And I know that you’re strongly against tattoos, Kurt, but my drunk-out-of-my-mind self apparently forgot. And Tina had another idea. And I agreed,” Blaine continues, slower,” And we got matching tattoos of your and Mike’s names.”

There’s silence after Blaine’s finished, neither of them saying anything. Then Kurt punches Blaine in the shoulder, half-indignant, half-relieved. “That’s the reason you’ve been acting like a lunatic, Blaine Devon Anderson? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me, why you haven’t showered in a week, why you wanted to play a monk in your school’s play? Because you got a tattoo of my name?” He hits Blaine softly several other times, and Blaine takes it, silent.

“That’s not all, though,” he says, tensing up.

“Oh?”

“Either we were even drunker than I remember, which, honestly, I don’t think so, or the tattoo artist was drunk himself, and that’s quite possible -- point is, he got them mixed up.”

Kurt stares at him, eyebrows raised. He goes through Blaine’s words in his head again, beginning to understand, slowly realizing that,” You got Mike’s name tattooed on your body.”

Blaine scrunches up his face and nods reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Kurt, I didn’t know what I was doing. And I’ve been trying to set up an appointment to start the removal process, but most of the clinics are booked for two or three more weeks.”

“That’s what the phone call was about...” Kurt says, putting all the puzzle pieces together in his head. He sighs deeply, reaching out to gently slap Blaine’s shoulder one more time.

“Why didn’t you just say all this to me right away, Blaine? You have no idea what crazy thoughts I’ve been mulling over this whole time,” he says, bringing his hand up and playing with the collar of Blaine’s shirt.

“You are my fianceé and you hate tattoos. I got the name of my best friend tattooed on my hipbone,” Blaine says plainly, looking into Kurt’s eyes.

“Yeah, well, but did you think that hiding it and making up stupid excuses why you couldn’t have sex with me, and planning to give up a lead role in a musical, and _not showering_ would be the better option here? Honestly, Blaine?” 

“To be fair, later on I realized that giving you blowjobs would be safe, and I was planning to bring up frottage, and also, I went to sleep with my iPod twice and had an alarm set up to wake me up at three so I could shower, but yeah, it was stupid. This whole thing is stupid. I can’t wait to get rid of it,” Blaine says with a whine, grabbing Kurt’s hand and squeezing it.

“We always get into these situations when we don’t talk things through.”

“We really do,” Blaine says, catching Kurt’s gaze and holding it. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

Kurt nods. “You were looking up cruises and you get seasickness every time you are on an air mattress in pools. I believe you.”

Blaine blinks, his face getting even redder. He leans forward, inspecting Kurt’s expression, and upon seeing no murderous look, he kisses him. He’s gentle and careful, not sure if Kurt will pull back, if he’s still mad at him, if he understands. But after a while, Kurt kisses back, bringing his other hand to rest on Blaine’s cheek. He licks into Blaine’s mouth, running his tongue over the seam of his lips, the tension slowly disappearing from his shoulders. Reluctantly, he ends the kiss, putting space between their hungry faces and looking at Blaine. “Can I see it?”

Blaine’s surprise is evident and he hesitates before nodding, scooting off of the sofa and standing up. Kurt watches him fidget with the button of his pants. His fingers are unsure and slow and by the time he’s got the fly down, Kurt can’t help but lift the bottom of Blaine’s shirt himself. He has to search for it at first, roaming over Blaine’s skin, his delicious, soft skin that he hasn’t seen in two weeks. And then he finally finds it -- pretty sophisticated, four small letters in a simple black writing. He almost thinks he wouldn’t mind Blaine having it if it was, indeed, his name written there.

He rubs his thumb over the skin under the tattoo, careful not to touch it. He leans in closer, looking up to see Blaine watching him with dark, hooded eyes.

“You should be thankful for three things, Blaine Anderson,” he says, voice low. “First, if I had to choose, Mike Chang would definitely be the only friend of yours I could sort of understand you running of with.” He closes the gap between his mouth and Blaine’s skin, kissing Blaine’s hipbone, right by the tattoo, but not brushing over it.

“Two, that I really love you,” he brings his lips downwards, mouthing at the skin directly above the waistband of Blaine’s boxer briefs. He tangles his fingers into the fabric, kneading the skin, and then starts tugging the briefs down, painfully slow.

“And three,” he breathes out, blowing air over the mark he’s sucked on Blaine’s pelvis; he pulls the briefs the rest of the way down, revealing Blaine’s hard, flushed cock, “you should be thankful --” he kisses the base, the slit, runs his thumb over the head, angles it so that it’s directly in front of his mouth, “ -- that I’m really, really horny right now.”

And with that, he slides his mouth over it.


End file.
